The Natotevaal Recruits

They were carrying their wounded on sleds, sinking ankle-deep in the fine sand, no longer having the strength to speak, to think, to raise their heads in ridiculous turbans made of scraps of snow-white parachute fabric; watery eyes just looked down to the surface of glittering sand, at the dusty toes of their boots, watching their step - the fallen could have no strength to rise.

An hour ago, before they had thrown away the transmitter Dybal intercepted a message of one of the SAU pilots that two of his supporting aircrafts did not come out of a curve in the 15-2 square and hit the ground, and he saw strange air vibrations near his aircraft.

The base has ordered to stop the search of the second capsule until morning and return to the base.

A distant rumble which daydreaming astronauts assumed was the sound of thunder, turned out to be a roar of the patrol engine "Phantom-11-E-34A", which was returning to the base in Cerro de Pasco. Blades of the assault helicopters feathered the airfield, ready to deliver observer snipers to the foothills of the search sector.

The saving rocks were close, just a dozen miles away.

An average healthy person without luggage would cross this distance in two and a half hours, but this way was an insurmountable obstacle for exhausted people whose souls have almost left their bodies. On top of that their progress was slowed down by the mountain-like dunes and terrains of basalt boulders, beaten by sands and wind.

When the sun touched the mountain tops, Dybal who along with Mackliff has been hauling an unbearably heavy von Conrad, stumbled and fell on his face.

Having lost his balance from the jerk, Mackliff also fell down. They tried to get up by scooping the flowing sand, wishing to move forward for an inch.

All in vain.

From the top of a dune, slowly, like in a dream, a landslide came down on their heads and a helpless colonel has almost been buried underneath.

But they fought, spending all strength they had; they were climbing up, further. Not seeing that his friends have stopped, Whitehouse has been going on for a while, head on his chest, stubbornly dragging Aydem, wrapped in a parachute as if it were a shroud.

Having climbed onto the next dune, he suddenly realized he did not hear the hoarse breathing of Dybal and Mackliff behind him.

He turned his stiff neck with great effort:

- Hey, guys... - a soundless whisper came out of his cracked lips.

He lost his balance and tumbled down.

Aydem was left on the other side of the ridge in a white bundle.

It took Whitehouse forty minutes to be back on the three-meter height of a continuously crumbling slope.

The sun had set.

The outskirts of the Great Desert slowly came to life; writhing lizards minced on the still-hot sand, large beetles scurried about their business, arrogant fat flies busily began exploring the wet sweaty faces of the astronauts which were covered with dust.

A desert jerboa galloped somewhere, wagging a fluffy brush tail and twisting its eared head. Right after it a viper flowed next to the face of Whitehouse. It was uninterested in people it wanted something that could be swallowed.

The wind became stronger and assertive.

Now it was blowing from the depths of the desert.

It was getting cold.

Myriads of grains moved along the crests of dunes, getting into the nostrils, eyes and ears; streamed into the collars, penetrated the tightly laced hiking boots, pockets, seams, hatchet sheath.

But Whitehouse was not paying any attention to it, he was falling asleep.

The desert drank all the strength of his powerful inexhaustible body, coupled by a handful of tonic pills.

The effect of anabolic steroids and acclimatization drugs taken after landing; was also over, and the invisible pressure of the Earth's gravity came over every cell of his body, which after three months of flight has become unaccustomed to gravity.

All at once the body was in agony, bruises and abrasions received in orbital collisions burned like fire, the sun burnt skin was stinging, and his head was aching.

Woozy from nonhuman overloads his brain filled with blurred colored pictures of the past: he is going to see "Star Boy" with his first girlfriend at 24th Avenue, then he is taking a test at the Academy and does not know how to calculate the RC characteristics, then he is playing te

The wind force increased.

Heavy flies crawling on the face of a man as if he was already dead have been carried away by its blow; large grains of sand rattled like rain on the cloth of the overalls and the dunes started their invisible movement.

Whitehouse did not feel any heat or pain, or sandy rain on his skin, only the whistling and howling of a storm still penetrated his consciousness.

But something has subtly changed in a voice of the Great Desert, a faint vibrating sound, approaching and then moving away, mingled with the roar of the wind.

No, the desert could not make such sounds.

There, in a snowstorm, something was moving, and this something was mechanical.

Could that be people?

The SAU commandos might have finally tracked them down.

Whitehouse slowly pulled up a worn "Viking Combat" Colt to his chest, the only thing he had not thrown out on the road.

The sound was nearing.

An engine.

It was a sound of a car engine, strenuously wailing on the rise.

So be it - two clips of exploding 38 caliber bullets - it is all that was left for a dying crew of "Independence."

So be it, let them come...

An antique "Jeep" with faded canvas top came out of the dusty mist. It was gnashing, jarring and dangling.

Battered hood jumped at every road-bump. A broken wiper was hanging at the windshield, clearing the view for a driver, the right wing was aloof, the left wing was missing; the shabby sides were painted with intricate ornament.

Whitehouse thought that this monster was a plot of his imagination; and that it was actually a patrol vehicle of the SAU commandos.

He pulled the gun from the sand installed the handle by the cheek and then realized that he could not even push the fuse.

His fingers did not move.

Meanwhile the jeep stopped not turning off the engine, but it did not hold on the crest of the dunes and slid down.

Two stocky men fell out of it: both wore wide-brimmed straw hats, shapeless shirts and pants of indefinite color and sandals without socks.

- There are just the two of them - the astronaut tried to get the fuse with his teeth.

His turban fell from his head and rolled, unfolding in the wind.

The teeth clenched the icy metal of barrel housing.

It was useless.

The strange people stopped holding their hats, which immediately flew over and hung on the back straps, and began loading the still astronauts in the car.

When it came to Whitehouse, they effortlessly tried to take the gun from his hand, but they did not succeed.

The astronaut was holding it tightly.

Muttering some curses they took out the clip, and dragged Whitehouse to the car...

He tried to oppose them, but it was a pathetic attempt. Astronaut found himself on a pile of smelly, oily rags, lying near von Conrad and Dybal.

A minute later Mackliff and Aydem were laid over them.

They covered the astronauts with pieces of parachute fabric, slammed the flimsy doors and the "Jeep" disappeared in the dark.

Digital coded telegram VHN 43

Confidential level: A

Yagd colonel!

I bring to your notice that on 28th Marr a.c., in the sector A17N44 a patrol boat discovered an enemy raider type "Tsvohgum" at high speed leaving the place of a crash of YAG-42.

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